Circus of Life
by Tigryphon
Summary: Really not much to say. This is the way a certain little scene in 'Bread and Circuses' should have gone...
1. Chapter 1

**Set during a particularly notable scene in Bread and Circuses. Our three boys have been captured by people who have the technology of the 20th century, yet live like the ancient Romans, holding gladiator fights, and killing slaves as entertainment. Kirk is elsewhere, being seduced by a pretty slave girl (as always), while Spock and McCoy are locked up in a cell after a brutal fight with two well-trained gladiators. I have slightly tweaked the end of the scene, though anyone who's watched it will say, it's what should have happened!!! Please refer to the episode if you're unfamiliar with it. You'll know the scene the moment you come to it. ;)**

**Disclaimer - I own nobody here. Not Spock, not McCoy, not Kirk, not the Enterprise, no one. If someone says otherwise, they're lying! Lying, I say!!!**

**=^.^=**

They had been trapped on this God-forsaken planet for about a day and a half, and nothing had gone right since they beamed down. McCoy's muscles all ached, and he had suffered from a pretty bad head injury. Spock was trying the bars of their cell again. McCoy watched him worrying at the metal. Thinking back, he could have cried over the wasted time they had between each other. McCoy had always held a secret sort of fondness for the man, Vulcan or not. He watched the elegant, broad shoulders flexing with the stress of his work. McCoy shivered, as thoughts of running his hands over those shoulders in ecstasy ran through is mind. He shook it off. He didn't need these distractions, damn it! Not now! "Angry, Spock? Or, frustrated, perhaps?" He smiled a little, trying to bring his thoughts back to the situation at hand. Quarreling always seemed to help. At least, with them it did.

"Such emotions are foreign to me, Doctor." The Vulcan replied coolly. The strain he was putting into trying to pry loose the bars didn't even register in his voice. "Merely testing the strength of the door."

"For the fifteenth time..." The good Doctor stood and walked over to him. In the arena, Spock had broken the rules and come to his rescue. Risked his life for him. This could be the end, and he didn't want to die with questions of their friendship in either of their minds. "Spock... I know we've had our disagreements. Uh, maybe they're jokes, I don't know. As Jim says, we're not often sure ourselves sometimes, but what I'm trying to say is..."

"Doctor, I am seeking a means of escape, would you please be brief." That cool, unbroken voice again.

He shook his head. Trying to distance himself. Of course. "Well, what I'm trying to say is, you saved my life in the arena."

A small emotion shimmered in his eyes, like a desert mirage. Discomfort? Maybe. "Yes... that's quite true."

McCoy couldn't believe it! Such indifference, even in the face of these grim surroundings. He risked his life, and he acted like it was nothing! "I'm trying to thank you, you pointed-eared hobgoblin!" He shouted.

"...Oh, yes. Humans have that emotional need to express gratitude." Spock straightened himself out, and almost sighed. Almost. "You're welcome, I believe, is the correct response." He crossed to the other side of the door frame, passing the Doctor as he went. The smell of his sweat hit the Vulcan's sensitive nose. He had also held a secret fondness for the human. For all his logic, he couldn't explain it. There was something in the terran's explosive attitude, his southern drawl, that was almost intoxicating. "However, Doctor, you must remember that I am entirely motivated by logic." He knelt down to test the bottom of the frame. Really, to do anything that kept his hands busy, and away from that tousled brunette hair. "The loss of our ship's surgeon, whatever I may think of his relative skill, would mean a reduction in the efficiency of the Enterprise, and therefore..." He was cut off as McCoy shoved him against the wall. He pinned Spock with one hand on his shoulder. Spock inhaled sharply, though it was to small a sound for McCoy to have noticed.

"I know why you're not afraid to die, Spock. You're more afraid of living!" The emotion that was pulsing from the Doctor through their physical connection threatened to overwhelm Spock. Anger, annoyance... worry? No, he had to be mistaken. Why would the Doctor worry over such a thought? It wasn't logical. Then again, nothing about Leonard McCoy ever seemed to be logical. "Each day you stay alive is just one more day you -might- slip, and let your human half peek out." His hand was still on Spock's shoulder, and he leaned in as he spoke. Spock looked away. Not from the accusation, but from the intensity in McCoy's eyes. He felt his chest tighten, and his mind grow fuzzy and clouded. He was afraid he was going to slip right then and there. He could smell McCoy's breath, sweet with the slight tinge of whiskey that always seemed to surround him. McCoy took this as something different entirely. "That's it, isn't it. Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling..."

Spock turned to the doctor, an odd look in is eyes. He arched his eyebrow, and his voice grew deeper than usual. "Really, Doctor..." He leaned in slightly, his lips parted. McCoy gasped. His face was as passive as ever, but the barely restrained passion in the Vulcan's eyes sent waves of pleasure through his body. He leaned in the rest of the way, and pressed his lips to Spock's. He didn't know if it was the desperation of the moment, the hopelessness of their surroundings, or if this had been building for all the years they had known each other, but the moment their lips met, something snapped. Spock curled is fingers into McCoy's hair, yanking his head to the side for better access. McCoy wrapped an arm around those powerful shoulders, his other hand sliding from his shoulder to his chest. He delved his tongue into the warm recesses of Spock's mouth, biting at his bottom lip as he pulled back for air. Nervous fog-blue eyes met equally cautious brown. McCoy was panting.

The cell wasn't really fit for privacy, but nobody was watching them. McCoy fought back a blush, and placed his hand over Spock's. He trailed his fingertips up and down the Vulcan's sensitive digits, sending jolts of electricity running down his spine to settle in his groin. Spock shifted on the cold concrete, his eyes closing slightly of their own volition. McCoy grinned. He could probably get him off just like this... He trailed the fingers of his other hand through Spock's silky black hair. "Come on, let's move to the bed... you're gettin' cold." Spock nodded, and let McCoy help him up. They sat side by side on the small, uncomfortable cot. McCoy leaned forward and kissed the Vulcan's slightly swollen lips again, more delicately this time. "Spock... tell me what's going through that logical mind of yours. Why... why didn't you push me off?" He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he had to know. Know what? That this wasn't a dream? That he wasn't going to wake up in the cold and dusty bed they were sitting on, to find himself in a very embarrassing situation?

"Sha'guv-dauk, riolozhikaik, vaksurik komihn... Nash-veh ashau du, Hassu McCoy, heh nash-veh kwon-sum ki'." The corner of Spock's lips turned up slightly, in that usually infuriating barely-smirk of his. "I simply wanted to kiss you."

"That sounded a lot longer than 'I simply wanted to kiss you'..." He looked at him suspiciously, but didn't press further. He had heard his name in that barrage of alien words, but would wait to press him for a translation 'till they were safely back on the ship. For now, he just wanted to find sanctuary in those green-tinted lips. He kissed him deeper, pushing him down onto the bed. Working a knee between Spock's legs, he felt a distinct bulge. Smiling, he reached down to wor his hand under Spock's waist-band. But that damn logic.  
"Doctor, we are in danger of being seen. Should one of the guards come to check on us..."

"Oh, shut up!" McCoy bit down on his lower lip, tasting a hint of green blood on his tongue when he shoved it into Spock's waiting mouth. But, again, damn that logic, and damn that pixie's habit of being right all the time. They heard the sound of boots clicking on the floor, and separated immediately. "You best believe we'll be picking this conversation back up later..." McCoy whispered.

"Doctor, we weren't having a conversation. In fact, we were quite unable to talk for the majority of..." McCoy kissed him again, pulling back just before the owner of the boots turned the corner.

"Didn't I just say, 'shut up'?" McCoy smirked. Then, he looked up, shock apparent on his ever-expressive face. "Jim?" The boots they heard had belonged to their captain. He had apparently escaped, and had come to rescue them, bringing a mess of trouble right along with him. God, that man always had had the worst sense of timing...

**Note to readers - I know it was a short chapter, but I wanted to get it out of the way. I tweaked it just a bit from the episode Bread and Circuses. Again, please refer to the episode if I have left any blanks. Other than that, I welcome criticism with open arms! I will be getting to the heavier stuff later on, so don't worry(I know, I'm a tease.  
Credit for the Vulcan in this, and every other chapter to come, is due to the Vulcan Language Dictionary (VLD) at /vld/. If anyone sees a problem with my Vulcan sentences, now or in the future, please correct me, and I may edit the story just for you. Make such corrections in a message, though, not a comment. Thank you, and I will get the next chapter up ASAP.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yet another disclaimer. I own nothing, know nothing, and never will.**

Time may heal wounds, but it can also cause infections. They had been back on the ship for a couple days, and things had been... awkward, to say the least. After the fiasco on Magna Roma, the relationship between Spock and McCoy had become tight. They almost never met eyes, and, although they kept up their usual banter, even the Captain had noticed it.

"Bones, can I talk to you?" Jim cornered McCoy in the medical bay one afternoon. "Privately. I've been meaning to discuss a few things with you, but I was waiting to catch you on a slow day." He looked around the empty clinic.

"Well... alright. Just let me clean up, and I'll meet you in my office." McCoy gave him a suspicious glance before going off to dispose of his gloves. He met the Captain a couple minutes later. "Alright, Jim. What is it you needed?"

"What's going on with you and Spock?" Ah, Jim... never one to beat around the bush. "You two seem distant. Is something wrong?"

"No... no, nothing's wrong." McCoy looked down. He never could lie with a straight face.

"Oh, no. Don't you give me that load, Bones. You and I _both_ know you can't lie to me. You never could." He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Well... I wouldn't call it a _problem_, per-say... it's just... look, it's personal, okay Jim?" He looked at him sadly, his hand rubbing at the sweat on the back of his neck. He would tell him, really he would. But it simply wasn't possible.

Jim practically pouted. It must be serious if Bones couldn't tell his best friend. _If it's something between the two of them,_ Jim thought, barely containing a smile, _then I'll have to find a way to get them to work it out, whether they like it or not._ "Well... why don't you meet me near one of the empty storage compartments later tonight, and we can discuss it again then."

"I don't see what a change in venue will do for the conversation, but... it's not like I can talk you out of it."

Jim couldn't hold back the smile this time. _Victory_.

~oOo~

Spock was just finishing up his lunch, when the Captain came and sat across from him. He smelled of the clinic; that sterile, caustic scent. He carried himself like a man with a very important mission to carry out.

"Say, Spock..." Jim absentmindedly drew circles on the table top as he spoke, "I've noticed a few problems recently, that I'd like you to take a look at. Just you. All... top-secret." He slipped him a piece of paper. "Just meet me here, at this time, and we can go over it." Spock gave him a curious stare. "And that's an order." Jim grinned, winking at him. He got up and strode away, giving his First Officer no chance to question him.

~oOo~

Jim knew that the only way to get them to work out whatever it was that was bothering them, would be to talk it out, or fight it out. The problem was, they never spent enough time in the same room to do either. Well, he could change that fast enough. They'd both probably want to hit him when they came out (and Bones would more than likely go through with it), but things would be back to normal.

He heard the distant soft click of medical shoes, and saw Bones step around the corner moments later. "Alright, Jim, what was so damned important we had to-" Jim pushed him through the open hatch, and closed the door.

A couple minutes later, Spock appeared, and looked around the halls. There was a soft, groaning noise in the air. He tipped his head to the side, listening. "Ah, there you are, Spock, punctual as always. You hear that? That is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm not sure why, but there seems to be alot of stress to this area of the ship. Like a... tension, you know what I mean?" Jim leaned against the door he had just moments before shut in the face of his CMO.

"Yes, I can see what you mean. The sound seems to be coming from that room." He pointed to the door Jim was leaning on. "Though, it is not like any sound I have heard on this ship before..." He stepped toward the door, and listened carefully. The sound must be rather loud, if it was coming through the thick metal doors with such volume.

"Now, I was hoping you could go in and work out the problem for me." Jim put in the code to open the door. He had to be quick, if he was going to pull this off. The moment the doors opened, he pushed Spock directly into McCoy's chest, knocking them both to the ground. He slammed the door shut again, and locked it using his own security code. There. He'd leave them there for a few hours, and come back for them later. He smiled triumphantly. It was underhanded, yeah... but it was still genius.

~oOo~

"Damn it all, get off of me you devil-eared little- Ow! That was my stomach!" McCoy tried to squirm out from under the Vulcan's much larger frame.

"If you would stop moving around so erratically, I would be better able to maneuver myself without having to avoid being kicked." Spock disentangled himself from the still-complaining Georgian. He had known the Captain had been up to something, but this was highly illogical, even for Jim. Why would he have tricked him like this? What purpose did trapping him in a storage compartment with Doctor McCoy serve? And the lack of lighting was, although not all too worrying, still disconcerting.

"What in the hell is he tryin' to pull?! He finally lost his marbles, that's what happened..." McCoy groused, his accent thickening in his distress.

"He had led me to believe there was a problem in this area of the ship. I believe it is safe to assume that the rather loud noises I had heard were from you?"

"Yeah, they were from me! And the problem was him! He had to go stickin' his noise where it wasn't needed..." He tried to stand up, but bumped his head against what he guessed was a shelf. "He wanted to know what was goin' on between us, and when I didn't tell him, he asked me to meet him here, where he promptly shoved me flat on my ass in a dark room." He rubbed his backside tenderly. He would definitely have a bruise before long. "Then, when he finally opens the damn door, I get a Vulcan dropped on top of me." He moved forward a step, so that he could stand up straight, but felt his chest brush against Spock's. His breath hitched lightly at the contact, feeling the burning skin even through two thick uniform shirts. The room wasn't very big, though luckily it wasn't holding any cargo at the moment. He could smell Spock's breath as close as he was; Chai tea with lemon. He smiled, momentarily glad for the darkness. Though, he knew Spock could smell the bourbon on his own breath. For the passed couple days, he had been trying to convince himself that their shared moment in the prison cell on Magna Roma had been the product of desperate times and clouded judgement. He was slowly achieving this through his own recommended dose of alcohol and self-reprimanding.

"You did not tell him about what happened on our last mission?" Spock cocked his head to the side subtly.

"I figured you wouldn't appreciate me tellin' him something like that, especially without asking you." McCoy shrugged. He didn't particularly want to talk to Jim about it, anyway.

"Thank you, Doctor, that was very considerate of you." McCoy felt Spock shift backwards.

"Yeah, well... you're welcome, I guess." McCoy shrugged again, and went to sit down. The moment he did, however, he stumbled over something on the floor, and fell forward. He landed with his face buried in Spock's chest, arms settled around his victim's neck in his attempt to catch himself. He looked up awkwardly, fighting to hide the blush creeping up his neck. Again, he was thankful for the darkness hiding his face.

"Doctor?" Spock said, after a moment of silence had fallen between them, and McCoy still hadn't made to get up. "Might I inquire as to why you are still laying on top of me?"

McCoy swore softly under his breath. He was trying to get up, but every time he thought about it, his mutinous body just froze up. "It's, uh... you're... more comfortable than the floor?" He offered lamely.

"Be that as it may, I would very much appreciate it if you removed yourself from me."

McCoy rolled off to the side, finally seizing control of his body again. He felt around for somewhere to sit, and settled on simply crossing his legs on the floor. "So... what do we do 'till Jim regains his sanity and lets us out?"

"I was rather content with the silence. There is no way out of this room, so it would be illogical to search for one. It is too dark to see, and we have no need to converse..."

"Yeah? Well, I hate silence personally..." He scratched at the back of his neck. "Hey Spock... what was the name of that teddy-bear your mom said you had?"

"He was a sehlat, Doctor, not a teddy-bear. And his name was I-Chaya." Spock shifted where he was sitting, the rustling of cloth sounding unnaturally loud in the small room.

"Oh... I-Chaya." The name sounded strange in the McCoy's southern drawl. In the darkness, Spock snorted out a very quiet laugh. It may have sounded strange, but it was almost endearing. "So... what happened to him? I mean, is he back on Vulcan, or..."

"He was killed by a le-matya while protecting me when I was seven." He spoke calmly, but there was a slight hint of pain in his voice.

"Oh... I'm sorry." McCoy slid his hand over to Spock's, not really thinking before he did so. When his hand touched the Vulcan's sensitive fingers, his hand jerked slightly. He shifted awkwardly where he was seated. McCoy smiled, and removed his hand. "Well, at least it took your mind off things."

"That it did." Spock's voice was tighter than usualy, much more controlled. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Well, no... but it worked, anyway." McCoy laughed. "Spock?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"What's a... la-matya? Did I say that right?"

Spock's stomach tightened. Hearing a Vulcan word pronounced with the Doctor's southern accent was... He couldn't quite put words to it, which was in itself disturbing, yet thrilling all at once. "Well enough. It is a large, green, omnivorous cat-like creature with poison claws, which lives in the deserts on Vulcan."

"Damn... is everything on your planet dangerous?" McCoy laughed.

"Vulcan is a harsh world. I suppose this has caused the animals to become harsh to survive there."

"... Spock?" McCoy scooted closer.

"Yes, Doctor?" Spock leaned away from the advancing McCoy.

"I, uh... I'm sorry. I've been sorta distant with you these past few days, and... well... you don't deserve it."

Spock straightened back up. "I, too, have been... distant."

"What happened on Magna Roma... I'm not sorry for it. Maybe I should have been a little more 'in control', but I'm not sorry."

"You are not the only one who was not 'in control' of themselves. I am guilty as well."

"No. You see, where I'm from, we have rules for that sorta thing..." McCoy put his hand back over Spock's. "And you don't just rush in." He dropped his voice to a whisper, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Where I'm from, you ask before you kiss someone. Especially like... _that._"

Spock thought back to the moment they had kissed, the emotions he had felt. He had felt them before, around the Doctor, but never that strongly. The only logical conclusion, was that he had romantic feelings for him. He loved Doctor Leonard McCoy. Therefore, the only logical course of action was... "Doctor... in accordance to your customs, I feel I must ask. May I kiss you?"

McCoy froze. "Are... are you sure you... want to?"

"Affirmative. Why would I ask if I was unsure?"

It way have been pitch black in the room, but McCoy swore he could _hear_ that eyebrow go up. "If you sure... then yes, you may." What in the hell was he doing, letting that pointy-eared pixie kiss him? If he was being honest with himself (which he rarely was), then he wanted this, and was only shocked that, apparently, Spock did, too. After that, though, all thought leaked out of his brain as burning hot lips connected with his, slow and tentative. After a moment of surprise, he locked his fingers with the hand beneath his, and wrapped his other arm around the Vulcan's neck. He traced the backs of Spock's fingers, earning him a moan and a shudder. He smiled beneath the kiss, and got his bottom lip bitten. Growling slightly, McCoy got his revenge by pulling the Vulcan's hand up, pulling away from the kiss, and placing his middle finger in his mouth. Spock's eyes widened as the wet heat enveloped his sensitive digit. Leaning his head back against the wall, he focused his mind entirely on the Good Doctor's surprisingly talented tongue as it swirled patterns on the pads of his fingers. A small gasp escaped him as McCoy removed his arm from around a now very tense neck, and pressed the palm of his over-heated hand over the ever growing bulge in Spock's Starfleet issue black pants. And that was it. Spock shoved him down onto his back, and claimed his mouth again, tearing at McCoy's clothes. He started kissing a trail from swollen lips to newly bared shoulders.

"Oh, God, Spock..." McCoy slid his hands down the well muscled back of his ship-mate. He grabbed Spock's thighs, and pulled them apart until the Vulcan was straddling his hips. God, the friction, the heat... He began grinding up against that luscious heat, and tore at Spock's waist band like a starving man clawing his way to an oasis. He felt long fingers enclose his own, and breath in his ear.

"Doctor, if you continue doing that, you are going to tear the fabric." Spock's voice was tight as he strained to cling to what little control he had left. He slid out of his pant quickly, tossing them aside. McCoy gripped his hips and lowered him down until he was perched in his lap. Then, things went still on the Vulcan's side. He had never done anything like this before, and, for all his knowledge and beloved logic, Spock's mind was too fuzzy to think of how to go about handling the position he now found himself in. McCoy, however, was a bit more seasoned when it came to the "ins and outs" of love-making. He placed his index finger into his mouth, coated it generously with saliva, then slipped his hand between Spock's thighs. Spock, with his lips still barely touching McCoy's ear, gasped as he felt the sudden intrusion.

"You okay?" McCoy stilled his finger inside his lover, worry tinging his voice.

"Yes... I have just never done this before. I suppose I did not know what to expect."

"Well, you're gonna need to relax..." He kissed his neck and shoulder, beginning to move his finger in slow, swirling motions, moving in and out carefully. McCoy smiled as Spock moaned and squirmed on top of him. When he felt him relax a bit more, he pushed in another finger, and sped up his pace, pressing deeper in, and eliciting little sighs and groans. _Finally, Vulcan physiology comes in handy..._ McCoy thought as he pressed up against the Vulcan's prostate. Spock gave a low moan, and bit down into McCoy's shoulder before whispering in his ear.

"Indeed it has, Doctor."

McCoy was to wrapped up to think about it, but something in the back of his mind told him that that comment was going to keep him up tonight. For now, though, the writhing form currently inhabiting his lap was now delving his tongue into McCoy's mouth. He traced the tip of his tongue along the roof before moving to kiss his neck. "Leonard? I am still unsure as to what I am supposed to do, but... I believe I am ready."

"Physically, maybe. Are you... are you sure you want to do this, though?" McCoy felt the familiar tinge of worry seep into his stomach. He placed a hand on Spock's cheek, and pressed his lips to his forehead.

"Affirmative. Why wou..."

"Yeah yeah... you wouldn't ask if you were unsure." He laughed lightly, and pulled his fingers out of Spock's tight entrance. Spock slipped his fingers under the band of McCoy's pants, noticing (with a slight, green-tinted blush) that he was not wearing underwear. McCoy sighed as the pressure was released from his straining erection, to be replaced by long, hot fingers. Spock positioned himself over McCoy's cock, feeling his pulse against his palm. "Hesitant, Spock?" McCoy smiled coyly.

"No, Leonard. Simply enjoying the moment for as long as I can. It seems illogical, but I almost feel as if the moment is..."

"A dream? I know, I feel it, too." McCoy grabbed Spock's hips, and slowly pushed up into him. Spock bit back against the sharp pain, knowing it wouldn't last. Sure enough, as McCoy pushed himself in deeper, Spock felt a flare of warm pleasure surge up his spine. But, when he pulled out just to his head, and pushed in hard, fast, and deep, Spock gripped his shoulders for support as he practically screamed. He started riding Doctor McCoy roughly, losing his carefully placed control. They both lost themselves to their carnal natures, lips meeting viciously, and teeth leaving harsh bruises on sensitive flesh. At one point, McCoy bit down hard on Spock's lips and tasted copper, a spot of green blood coating his tongue. At the pain, Spock slammed down, and felt convulsions take his body as he came onto the Doctor's stomach. The clenching muscles, and hearing his name being growled out by that usually neutral voice undid McCoy, and he joined Spock in blissful completion.

They collapsed, and neither could speak until they caught their breath. "Spock..." McCoy broke the silence reluctantly. "Back on the planet... what did you really say? That phrase you muttered in Vulcan, what did it _really_ mean?"

"Sha'guv-dauk, riolozhikaik, vaksurik komihn... Nash-veh ashau du, Hassu McCoy, heh nash-veh kwon-sum ki'." Spock repeated, and McCoy could feel a heated blush on the Vulcan's carved features. When he spoke, it was low, and McCoy had to strain to hear it at all. "My erotic, illogical, beautiful human... I love you, Doctor McCoy, and I always have."

"Spock, I..." McCoy kissed him deeply, tenderly. "I love you, too." He laid his head on Spock's chest, and fell into a contented half sleep.

~oOo~

Jim came back to the storage compartment with a nervous look on his face. He had left them there for a full three hours. He wasn't sure he wanted to meet the carnage that had commenced, or the slugging and chewing out Bones was sure to give him when he opened the door. Sighing with resigned tone, he opened it slowly. Then, his jaw almost hit the floor. The two of them were stripped, laying on the floor curled up together. Spock blushed, but said nothing more than, "Captain, kindly shut the door. He is sleeping, and I do not believe he would appreciate waking to this situation" as he pulled his uniform undershirt over his and McCoy's lap. Kirk slowly shut the door, mumbling "twenty minutes" under his breath as he did so.

**Sorry it took so long, but I was struck down by the demon God of writer's block. But, nothing a few days of 'Trek and meditation couldn't fix. I hope the Vulcan declaration of love does not go unappreciated, it took me a while to get the translation right. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner.**


End file.
